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Frontispiece 



AND WITH SOLEMN MIEN AND SILENT 
TAKES HER PLACE UPON MY KNEE 



When the Heart is Young 



By 

William Wallace Whitelock 





u«.'-o 



Illustrated by 
Harper Pennington 



New York 

E. P. Dutton & Company 

31 West Twenty-third Street 
1902 



THE LIBRAHV OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two COWES Rrbw) 

lUL. 9 1902 



(. CLASS ^ XX«i No. 
COPY B. 






Copyright 
E. P. BUTTON & CO. 

IQ02 

Published, Sept., igo2 



TO MY MOTHER, 

WHO GAVE ME A HAPPY CHILDHOOD 



CONTENTS 



A CHILD S READING , 

THE EYES THAT FOLLOW YOU 

MY LITTLE SWEETHEART . 

THE SONG OF THE LODTOPS 

THE MAN IN THE PH0N0GRAPH-I50X 

DOING STUNTS . 

johnny's BILL OF FARE 

snooty-pooty . 
ef i was rich 
a piebald trip 
Susan's bad language 

johnny's CONSCIENCE 
WHOOS 

my aunt . 

how to tell the time 

reversal . 

little girl with but one dimple 

johnny's thoughts on CHRISTIAN SCIENCE 
TRAVELLING ...... 

THE BOY-EATER ..... 

SLEEPY TIME ...... 



3 

5 

7 

9 

II 

13 
iC 

18 
20 
23 
24 
26 
28 

29 
32 
33 

35 
37 
40 

43 



VI 



Contents 



PANTS ...... 

" THERE WERE GIANTS IN THOSE DAYS 

ROUND 'bout CHRIS'mAS TIME 

THE MAN THAT WAKES ME UP 

THE TITTYPOOS 

TWO WISHES .... 

johnny's LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS 

THE SONG HE SHOULD HAVE SUNG 

THE MAN WHO LOVED THE CHILDREN 

WHEN THE NOSE IS COLD . 

THE HUNT FOR THE DRAGON 

MY LITTLE BOY 

PICKING ON KIDS 

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 

A KNOTTY QUESTION 

AN EARLY BLOSSOM . 

THE HURDY-GURDY . 

THE DEAREST ONE . 



45 
46 
48 
50 
52 
56 
58 
59 
60 
62 
63 
71 
72 

74 
76 

77 
79 
81 



FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 



And with solemn mien and silent 

Takes her place upon my knee . . . Frontispiece 

No matter where I get, its eyes 

Keep lookin' straight at me . . Facing page 4 

On, on I flew, and close behind 

A dragon snapped his jaws . . . P<^S^ 21 

It ain't a-seein' Whoos, though, hurts. 

It 's havin' them see you . . . Facing page 26 

You stand before the clock, just so. 

An' start right at the top .... Page 30 

Little girl with but one dimple 

Lurking in your satin cheek . . Facing page 32 

Our football team was formed of those 

Who averaged seven feet . . . Faci?ig page 46 ' 

While as for jumping, Henry Spring 

Jumped right across the street . . Facing page 48 

And the sailing-boats he fashioned 

Were a wonder and delight . . Facing page 60 

An' so I had to get a stick, 

An' sister got a hoe .... Facing page 64 



y 



A CHILD'S READING 

Sitting, forgot by the world in its haste, 

She finds what the world is questing, 
Content with her book from morn till noon. 

From noon till the sun is westing; 
She takes no thought of the hours' flight, 

For hers is the age abundant, 
When days are long and filled with song. 

And time is a gift redundant. 

" The Prince was tall and his face was fair. 

And his heart was gold straight through "— 
'T is thus she reads on the magic page, 

And she knows it must be true ; 
So forth they fare to the dragon's lair. 

That he dare as a hero must ; 
But she knows no fear, for the Prince is near, 

And hers is the age of trust. 

Now, the dragon fierce from his gloomy cave 
Comes forth with his flaming eyes. 



A Child's Reading 

But the Prince's sword doth pierce his heart, 

And the wicked dragon dies ; 
Then the Prince leads home the lady fair 

Who had pined in the tower above — 
And the reader sighs as she dries her eyes, 

For hers is the age of love. 




THE EYES THAT FOLLOW YOU 




We 've got the awfullest picture 

That ever you did see ; 
No matter where I get, its eyes 

Keep lookin' straight at me, 
I hide behind the sofa, 

An' I wait, an' wait — until — 
Oh, dreadful long — but when I peep 

They *re watchin' for me still. 

The other afternoon, real late, 

I crep' up to the door, 
As soft as anythin', for they 

Was carpet on the floor ; 
An' I peeked into the parlor. 

Like Sister says she done, 
But I found those eyes a-lookin". 

An' I tell you but I run. 

Now, Tommy Bell when he was here 
He stood right over there, 

An' crossed his heart that picture 
Was lookin' at him square ; 

3 




The Eyes That Follow You 

But I was standin' here, an' I 
Was watchin' of those eyes — 

An' some day he '11 be sorry 
If he tells sech w'oppin' Hes. 

One night when Mother tucked me in 

She promised not to tell, 
So I told her 'bout that picture. 

An' I told on Tommy Bell ; 
But Mother laughed an' said those eyes 

Just seemed to move to me ■ — 
But I mean to get a stick an' poke 

Those eyes myself an' see. 




NO MATTER WHERE I GET, ITS EYES 
KEEP LOOKIN' STRAIGHT AT ME 



MY LITTLE SWEETHEART 

She comes when day is over, 

And the evening sky is bright, 
In the restful gloaming hour. 

When 't is neither day nor night ; 
And with solemn mien and silent 

Takes her place upon my knee ; 
Then she says, " Your little sweetheart 

Has come back again, you see." 

She is very small, my sweetheart, 

And her eyes are deep and blue, 
Like the skies of early summer, 

When the clouds are faint and few ; 
And she shakes her golden ringlets — 

Such a serious little miss — 
And she says, " Your little sweetheart 

Has n't had her evening kiss." 

So I kiss my little sweetheart. 
And I ask her if she still 

5 



My Little Sweetheart 

Will prefer me to all others 

When she 's further up the hill ; 

And she smiles and shows her dimples, 
In an arch, coquettish way, 

Ere she says, " I '11 be your sweetheart 
When I 'm toothless, old, and gray." 

Ah, my dainty little sweetheart. 

Would that you could still remain 
Such a pure and lovely flower. 

Like the violets after rain ; 
Would that time might hold no changes, 

Little one, for such as thee. 
That the gloaming hour might ever 

Bring my sweetheart to my knee ! 



THE SONG OF THE LODTOPS 



Give me your hand, O comrade, I am slipping from 

off my perch, 
For the Lodtop here on the other side keeps giving a 

terrible lurch ; 
Oh, the curse of our race is this miserable fat, and the 

running to avoirdupois, 
Though it seems to have nothing whatever to do with 

the eating of girls and boys ; 
I have eaten but thirteen boys this week, with portions 

of maiden stew. 
And yet I am getting so terribly fat that i^ 

I do not know what to d 

CHORUS 
Oh, it 's /letg/i for a steak from 

a jolly plump boy ! 
And it 's /lo for him made 

into duff ! 
Now, I find that the 

good little boys are 

the best, 
For the bad little boys 

they are tough. 




8 The Song of the Lodtops 

Keep hold of my hand, O comrade, for if I should fall 
to the ground, 

I am sure I would burst with a loud report, and the 
fragments would never be found ; 

But alas, I have five little Lodtops at home who 're de- 
pendent on me for food, 

And if I should burst who would bring them a boy or 
a sweet little girl to be stewed ? 

I have grown so fat in my latter days that I only can 
hide in the grass. 

And grab at the heels of the girls and the boys as the 
dear little innocents pass. 

CHORUS 
So it 's heigJi for a steak from a succulent lad ! 

And it 's Jio for a chop from a maid ! 
I '11 invite you all round to my house to sup 

When the bluebells are heard in the glade. 



THE MAN IN THE PHONOGRAPH-BOX 



My Pa he is the funniest man 

That ever you did see ; 
He 's always playing 
jokes on Ma, 
And sometimes, too, 
on me ; 
He brings me lots of 
playthings, 
Like soldiers, kites, 
and blocks, 
But the finest thing of 
all, I think. 
Is the man in the pho- -^^ 
nograph-box. 




He brought him home the other night, 
And then when tea was done, 

He made him talk and laugh and sing — 
I tell you it was fun ! — 
9 



lo The Man in the Phonograph-Box 

Till at last he hollered, " Let me out ! 

They 're hittin' me with rocks! " 
And I thought I 'd die a-laughin' 

At the man in the phonograph-box. 

He said a piece of po'try called 

" John Anderson, my jo," 
And then he sung a song about 

The days of long ago ; 
And Ma, who was a-settin' there 

A-mendin' Father's socks. 
She thought I did n't see her cry 

At the man in the phonograph-box. 

I tried to get a look at him, 

So when Pa made him sing 
I peeked down thro' his speakin'-toob, 

But I could n't see a thing — 
But I think it 's mean to keep him there 

Shut in by bolts and locks, 
And I 'm goin' to let him out some day, 

That man in the phonograph-box. 




DOING STUNTS 

My Cousin Joe an' Sister Nell 

An' Tommy Bell, what comes 
To play with us an' spend the day 

An' break my slates an' drums, 
They all has got a lot o' stunts 

That no one else can do, 
An' says I ain't no good at all 

'Cause I ain't got one, too. 



Now, Sister Nell she skins the cat, 

She does, an' Cousin Joe 
He 's double-j'inted in his thumbs 

An' in his right-hand toe ; 
But Tommy Bell 's the best of all — 

He whistles thro' his teeth ! 
The other day he showed me how, 

Out on the Jones's heath. 
II 




12 



Doing Stunts 

I ain't had time to learn it yet, 

It 's hard as every 
thing, 
But maybe if I practise up 

I '11 learn it 'fore next spring ; 
An' Sister Nell she 's promised 
too, 

She 'd teach me how some day 
To skin the cat the way she does 

The double-action way. 





You can't learn how to move your ears 

Unless you 're born that way, 
Nor how to throw your j'ints out, 

Or make your back go sway ; 
But you can learn to cross your 
eyes. 

An' do the split, an' turn 
Yourself all sorter inside out, 

Like I 'm a-goin' to learn. 





Cl 



I r'jl JU 





JOHNNY'S BILL OF FARE 

My Pa an' Ma an' me we lives 

At Hotel Orange Bloom, 
A place with illeevaters, 

An' a great big dinin'-room ; 
Our breakfuses we takes upstairs, 

At half past eight or nine, 
But lunch an' dinner 's down below, 

An' I tell you but it 's fine ! 



At dinner-time there 's always soup, 
With clams or oysters first. 



Johnny's Bill of Fare 

An' then a printed bill o' fare, 

Enough to make you burst ; 
There 's duck an' turkey, beef an' pork. 

An' veg'tables — oh, my ! — 
In little dishes round your plate, 

An' seven kinds of pie ! 

There 's nuts an' raisins, grapes an' figs, 

An' cocoanuts that 's tough, 
An' all the things a feller likes 

But never gets enough ; 
There 's floatin' island, apple tarts. 

An' puddin's all a-steam ; 
There 's junket, cake, an' ginger-bread — ■ 

But the best of all 's ice-cream ! 

I don't care much fer oysters, 

An' clams I think is vile. 
An' soup is one of these here things 

That people eats fer style ; 
Though meats an' veg'tables is good. 

They takes up too much room. 
So I goes slow till dessert comes 

In the Hotel Orange Bloom. 

Now, Pa he is a broker, 

An' his head is filled with stocks, 



Johnny's Bill of Fare 15 

An' Ma she 's always thinkin' 

Of her hats an' cloaks an' frocks ; 

So no one pays attention 
To what I eat or do, 

An' when the waiter's back is turned 
I stuffs my pockets, too. 

I 've got a closet in my room 

Where no one else can spy. 
An' there I hides the things I takes, 

An' eats them on the sly ; 
But lately I has felt right queer — 

I think it 's called the " chronic" — 
An' lost my appetite — I guess 

I need some sort o' tonic. 



SNOOTY-POOTY 

"Are you Mother's snooty-pooty ? " 

Mother often asks at night, 
When we Ve got the knots undided 

And I 'm tucked in snug and tight ; 
"Are you Mother's snooty-pooty? " — 

But I shake my head just so, 
An' make out I 'm not her snooty. 

Though of course I am, you know. 

Then she makes beheve she 's cryin', 

An' she sobs likes everything. 
An' she says : " My snooty-pooty 

Must have gone away last spring ! " 
Then I cry : " Oh, no, he did n't ! 

Here he is ! " an* hug her tight ; 
An' she says : " Why, snooty-pooty 

Must have come back home last night ! 

Then I make her tell a story 
All about some prince or king, 

i6 



Snooty-Pooty 17 

Or she *11 sing " Sweet Annie Laurie " — 
You just ought to hear her sing ! — 

Then she says : " Now, snooty-pooty, 
One more kiss, an' off to sleep ! " 

An' I close my eyes, an' promise 
I won't let her snooty peep. 






EF I WAS RICH ° ^'^; 

Ef I was rich, I tell you w'at, 
I 'd have a bully time , 
'd spend a lot on candy — 
Why, I guess I 'd spend a 
dime ! 

An' soda-water, too, you bet, 
I 'd buy a glass each day, 
n'jus' plunk down a quarter 
When it come the time . 
to pay. '^' 

w I 'd buy a lot o' soldiers, 

too, 

Like Cousin Joe has got, 
An' then it would n't matter much 

Ef one or two got shot. 
An' lost their heads an' arms an' legs 

An' could n't go to war — 
For when a feller 's rich, you see, 
He goes an' buys some more. 
i8 




Ef I Was Rich 19 

r d have a boat with sails an' things, 

An' p'r'aps a train o' cars ; 
An' all the kinds o' jelly w'at 

Comes put up tight in jars, 
An' always stays locked up, so 's you 

Can't never get a bit, 
Excep' when big folks comes around 

An' eats mos' all of it. 

I 'd get a pair o' boxin'-gloves, 

A turnin'-lathe an' tools ; 
An' picter-books, but not the kind 

You sees at Sunday-schools ; 
An' ef they tried to make me go 

To school through rain or shine, 
I would n't go a step, no, sir, 

I 'd ruther pay the fine. 

P'r'aps I 'd get a bike, beside, 

Ef I was mvful rich ; 
An', oh, a baseball, too, the kind 

That really players pitch ; 
An' then I 'd get a — well, let 's see, 

I can't tell all I 'd do — 
But Pa an' Ma should have their share, 

An' Sister Nellie, too. 



A PIEBALD TRIP 

The other night I ate some pie, 

And when I went to bed 
I tumbled down a flight of steps, 

And landed on my head. 

The ground gave way and let me through, 
The wind rushed past my ears ; 

I plunged into a boiling sea, 
And sunk for nineteen years. 

At last when nearly out of breath 

I reached the other side, 
And tumbled into endless space, 

So cold I nearly died. 

On, on I flew, and close behind 

A dragon snapped his jaws ; 
In vain I tried to recollect 

Sir Isaac Newton's laws. 




ON, ON I FLEW, AND CLOSE BEHIND 
A DRAGON SNAPPED HIS JAWS 



A Piebald Trip 

A comet suddenly appeared, 

I shot across its tail, 
And scared the salamanders so 

They turned from red to pale. 

A sufferer from prickly heat, 
I, scratching, onward sped, 

But caught by chance a shooting-star, 
And landed in my bed. 




SUSAN'S BAD LANGUAGE 

She 's a funny little creature, and she chatters like a daw, 
In a language meant for English, disregarding ev'ry law ; 
And it makes her, oh, so angry, when I say " Now, 

Susan, please 
Try to speak the English language — you are speaking 

Susanese." 



" Ith a-thpeakin' pwoppa English," she declares, with 

flashing eyes, 
"An' I athed where Dolly goes to when her 's tathen 

thick an' dies " — 
" I would give you answer, Susan," I reply, " and be 

most glad. 
But I cannot understand you, for your language is so 

bad." 

23 




JOHNNY'S CONSCIENCE 

I 've got the funniest feelin' 

When I bin bad, right here ; 
It ain't a pain exactly, but 

It certainly feels queer ; 
I 'm sure it ain't my stummick, though, 

For that it 's up too high — 
A sorter chokin', 's though I 'd eat 

Too big a piece of pie. 

Now, Mother calls it " conshince," an' 

She says that it 's put there 
To tell me when I 'm naughty, like 

When I 've pulled Sister's hair ; 
But I don't need no " conshince " 

To tell me that, for she 
Goes tells my Pa, an' you can bet 

He 'presses it on me. 

I wish, though, I was made without 
A " conshince," so 's I jes' 
24 



Johnny's Conscience 25 

Could have the finest sorter time, 

An' would n't have to 'fess ; 
But my ! I Ve got a great idea — 

I '11 swaller it some day ! — 
But say, it 's dangerous ef you don't 

Just know the proper way. 



WHOOS 

A whoo is something like a spook — 

At least, that 's what they say — 
But whoos don't have to go get dead, 

Like spooks — they 're born that way. 
I 've never seen a whoo myself, 

But once I met a girl 
Wat seen a whoo, and ever since 

Her hair refused to curl. 

It ain't a-seein' whoos, though, hurts, 

It 's havin' them see you, 
For when you once has met their eyes, 

There 's nothin' you can do ; 
Some people has a fit, an' some 

Jus' turns a yaller-green. 
An' skinny folks they gets all fat. 

An' fat folks they gets lean. 

There ain't no rule, though, 'bout the way 
It acts on folks, for I 

26 




IT AIN'T A-SEEIN' WHOOS, THOUGH, HURTS, 
IT'S HAVING THEM SEE YOU 



Whoos 27 

Once heard about a boy w'at lost 

His appetite for pie 
Through seein' whoos, an' Sister knows 

A girl w'at met one once, 
An' now she can't learn how to spell, 

She 's pretty near a dunce. 

You never meet a whoo by day. 

But when the sun has set, 
An' all the trees is spooky, an' 

The grass with dew is wet ; 
An' when you hear the death-watch rap, 

An' all the woods is still — 
Why, that 's the time the whoos come out 

An' wander on the hill. 

I ain't so much afraid o' spooks, 

Because you never see 
A spook when other folks is round, 

They don't like company ; 
But whoos is diff'rent, for you can't 

Tell when you '11 meet a whoo — 
You 're never safe except in bed, 

With your head all covered, too. 



MY AUNT 



I 've got a aunt w'at is a aunt, 
The kind you read about ; 
She don't keep sayin', " No, you 
can't ! " 
An' " Johnny, now get out ! " 
She just turns to and helps you 
get 
Whatever you may need — 
She 's just about all right, you bet, 
The best you ever seed. 

An' then, you see, when I been 
bad. 
Like fellers must sometimes, 

She don't go get all hot an' mad, 
An' talk about your " crimes " ; 
But she just keeps me 'way from Ma, 

An' talks 'bout other things. 
An' says she '11 make it right with Pa 
I guess she '11 soon have wings. 




HOW TO TELL THE TIME 

I 've just learned how to tell the time, 

My Mother teached me to ; 
An' ef you think you 'd like to learn, 

I guess I might teach you ; 
At first, though, it 's as hard as fun. 

An' makes you twist an' turn, 
An' Mother says that they is folks. 

Big folks, w'at never learn. 

You stand before the clock, just so, 

An' start right at the top. 
That 's twelve o'clock, an' when you reach 

The little hand you stop ; 
Now, that 's the hour, but you 've got 

To watch what you 're about, 
Because the hardest part 's to come, 

To find the minutes out. 

You go right back again to where 
You started from, an' see 

29 




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YOU STAND BEFORE THE CLOCK, JUST SO, 
AN' START RIGHT AT THE TOP 



How to Tell the Time 31 

How far the minute hand 's away, 
Like this — you 're watchin' me? — 

An' when you 've found the minute-hand 
You multifly by five, 

An* nen you 've got the time o' day, 
As sure as you 're aHve. 

They 's folks, I know, w'at says that they 

Don't have to count that way, 
That they can tell by just a glance. 

At any time o' day ; 
But I don't b'lieve no fibs like that, 

Because ef that was true 
My Ma would know it, but she showed 

Me like I 'm showin' you. 



REVERSAL 

When I was just a little lad, 
Ere ever a care I knew, 

And the ship of my daily sailing 
Was manned by a fairy crew ; 
When life was still a wondrous thing, 
And I had n't discovered its flaws - 
I 'd dream in the night of monsters 
And terrible things with claws. 





But now that I have older grown, 

And life is mostly care, 
And I find that unmixed laughter 

Is not to be my share — 
The dragons and the monsters 

Are only met by day. 
And I have to wait till dream- 
time comes 
To see the fairies play. 




y 



^' 



LITTLE GIRL WITH BUT ONE DIMPLE 
LURKING IN YOUR SATIN CHEEK 



LITTLE GIRL WITH BUT ONE DIMPLE 

Little girl with but one dimple 

Lurking in your satin cheek, 
Lurking there to take me captive, 

Tho' you look demurely meek ; 
In your lap your hands are folded. 

And your truant eyes cast down, 
While your dainty feet are hidden, 

Slyly peeping from your gown — 
*T is a picture sweetly simple. 

As of some uncloistered nun — 
Smile again and show your dimple, 

I am captive, dearest one. 

Little girl with but one dimple, 

I am glad you have not two. 
For I needs must love the other. 

Since it would belong to you ; 
But I have no love to spare it. 

All is given, I confess, 
And to love the second I should 

Have to love the first one less. 
3 33 



34 Little Girl with but One Dimple 

Little maid, you need no wimple, 
You are my uncloistered nun — 

Smile again and show your dimple 
To your captive, sweetest one. 




JOHNNY'S THOUGHTS ON CHRISTIAN 
SCIENCE 

The other day I had a pain 

From eatin' Christmas pie 
On July Fourth, it hurt so bad 

Indeed, I thought I 'd die ; 
I lay and wriggled on the floor, 

And swore to Sister Nell 
35 



36 Johnny's Thoughts on Christian Science 

That I would be a better boy 
Ef ever I got well. 

But while I squirmed and rolled about, 

Why, Mrs. Jones come in, 
And when I told her I was sick, 

She said such talk was sin ; 
She stuck me down, I only thought 

That I was sick — but I 
Know better, for I guess 

She did n't eat that pie. 

The way that some folks come around, 

An' tell you you 're not sick. 
An' close their eyes, and " treat " you, while 

They mumble things off quick, 
Is just enough to make you think 

You 'd rather bust in two 
From Christmas pies, than have no sense 

Like this here treatin' crew. 



' "''""ill, 



vMm^ 




Jiifei 



TRAVELLING 

I sit upon the sandy shore, 

And dream myself across the sea; 

The morning 's spent in Singapore, 
The afternoon in Barbary. 

The time is short for all the sights, 
The mosque, bazar, and fezzes red ; 

'T is best of all, they say, of nights, 
But that 's the time that I 'm in bed, 

From shop to shop I stroll along. 
And make a purchase now and then 

I get the things for just a song, 
And hand them to my dragomen. 

Who walk a pace or two behind. 

And never speak unless addressed — 

37 



38 Travelling 

It 's quite impossible to find, 

You know, such servants in the West. 

At noon I take a cup of that 
Delicious coffee which you get 

At Singapore, and have a chat 

With any friends whom I have met. 

And then I usually depart 

For Barbary, Tangiers, or Spain ; 

It doesn't matter when I start — 
I do not have to make the train. 

If Barbary should be the place 
I 've chosen for the afternoon, 

I go to see the camel-race, 
Or fishing in the big lagoon. 

Although, to tell the truth, of late 
The crocodiles have grown so bold 

They've swallowed all the hooks and bait- 
They really make my blood run cold. 

I 've told the Khedive, so, no doubt, 
He '11 get his hunters from the plain 

And have the crocodiles cleaned out 
Before I come to fish again. 



Travelling 39 

I think, though, we had better try 
The camel-race this time — but stay ! 

My Mother 's calling me — good-by ! 
Perhaps we '11 go some other day. 




THE BOY-EATER 



My Uncle Sam 's a dangerous man, 

He is, he 's big and stout, 
An' when he comes around you Ve got 

To watch w'at you 're about ; 
For ef you don't, first thing you know. 

You don't know nothin', for 
He grabs you by your pants, an' h'ists 

You 'way up off the floor. 
40 



The Boy-Eater 41 

He 's got a solemn sort o' look, 

As tho' he hated fun, 
An' had n't any use for boys, 

An' could n't up an' run ; 
" Now, look a-here," he says, " you jus' 

Had better let me be, 
I 'm great on eatin' boys " — an' nen 

He makes a grab for me. 

He never yet has caught me, but 

I 'm not a-riskin' that, 
For when you fools with cannybells 

You don't know where you 're at ; 
So when he blows his cheekses out. 

An' hunger lights his eye, 
I does w'at missionaries don't, 

I jus' bids him good-by. 

But t' other day, I tell you w'at, 

He almost catched me, for 
I 'd been a-teasin' him, an' slipped 

Before I reached the door ; 
He tumbled over me, gee-w'op ! 

The house near busted in — 
Ef he 'd a-landed on me, say, 

I wonder where I 'd been ' 



42 The Boy-Eater 

I had n't any time, though, then 

To think about such things, 
But up I jumped an' flew around 

The table 's though I 'd wings ; 
An' followin' close behin' he comes, 

A-reachin' for my jacket. 
An' pufifin' like a train o' cars — 

We made a awful racket ! 

I never ran so fas', but he 

Got hold my roundabout, 
An' thought he had me, too, but I, 

Jus' quickly wriggled out. 
An' lef him holdin' of my coat. 

An' gaspin' there for breath — 
An' that was all that saved me then, 

I guess, from sudden death. 



SLEEPY TIME 

My Ma she says the mornin' is 

The bestest time o' day, 
Because it is the time to work, 

An' not the time to play ; 
But that 's the very reason I 

Don't h'ke the mornin', for 
I 've got to go to school and sit 

From nine o'clock till four. 

On Saturday it ain't so bad, 

But it so seldom comes 
I never seem to get no rest 

From Geography an' sums ; 
So ev'nin' is the time I likes 

The best of all the day, 
When all the lamps is lighted, an' 

The supper 's cleared away. 

I sets an' thinks about the games 
I '11 play with Tommy Bell, 
43 



44 Sleepy Time 

Of Christmus time, an' Christmus gifts, 

An' fairy tales, as well ; 
An' all the stunts I means to do 

Next winter on my sled — 
But then before I knows it, why, 

I 'm sound asleep in bed. 

Now, Pa he says that little folks 

Must sleep a lot, but say, 
It seems to me that big folks has 

A greater need, for they 
Is just so big it takes a lot 

Of sleep to go around — 
Like Pa, who 's over six foot tall 

An' weighs two hundred pound. 

An' so, I 'se goin' to keep awake 

This evenin' ef I die, 
I 'se got a way to do it, too, 

A way I means to try ; 
For when the dustman comes around 

I '11 close my eyes, so 's he 
Can't fill 'em full o' sleepy dust. 

An' make me sleepy — see? 



PANTS 

When I stayed up till nine o'clock 

The first time in my life, 
I thought that I was old enough 

To get myself a wife ; 
I told my Ma I would n't wear 

Those horrid, nasty kilts. 
And when she made me pants I felt 

As tall as though on stilts. 



But oh, since then I 've had enough 

Of staying up at night : 
To get to bed at nine o'clock 's 

My dream of pure delight ; 
And as for pants, I wish that they 

Had never been invented — 
I 've never seen a " panted " one 

Who really was contented. 




45 



THERE WERE GIANTS IN THOSE DAYS 

Yes, yes, my son, I have no doubt 

They 're wonderful, these boys 
Who play at football, hockey, quoits, 

With such astounding noise ; 
No doubt they 're heroes just as great 

As any Homer sung — 
I only say, you should have seen 

The boys when I was young. 

Our football team was formed of those 

Who averaged seven feet. 
And every one a Hercules 

In every way complete ; 
While each could run a hundred yards 

In seven seconds flat, 
Altho', of course, the " backs," you know, 

Were fleeter far than that. 

To get upon our baseball nine 
You had to throw a ball 

46 






,' wf, 




OUR FOOTBALL TEAM WAS FORMED OF THOSE 
WHO AVERAGED SEVEN FEET 



There Were Giants in Those Days" 47 

Three hundred yards, tho' many held 

That nothing much at all ; 
And many a time I 've seen the ball 

When batted go so high 
The batter made a home-run first 

Before they caught the " fly." 

And hockey — well, we 'd skate so fast 

You could n't see our feet ; 
While as for jumping, Henry Spring 

Jumped right across the street — 
No, no, I don't dispute the fact 

You boys are mighty fine. 
But then, of course, you did n't know 

The boys of '59. 



ROUND 'BOUT CHRIS'MAS TIME 




Aunt Nan she says I 'm always good, 

An' Pa says: "Yes — asleep" — 
An' Ma she don't say nothin', but 

Her eyes they says a heap ; 
An' I — well, I keep sorter quiet, 

An* try to look serblinne — 
But you jus' bet I 'm good as gold 

Round 'bout Chris'mas time. 



At other times it 's hard as fun 

To do jus' what you 're told, 
An' like to get up early, an' 

Be thankful when they scold ; 
But somehow, when December comes 

An' hazel-nuts is prime, 
I get so good I nearly die, 

Round 'bout Chris'mas time. 



I onct played hookey, — yes, I did 
An' went a-fishin' too., 

4S 




i. 1. 




i{ f 




y 




WHILE AS FOR JUMPING, HENRY SPRING 
JUMPED RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET 



Round 'bout Chris'mas Time 

An' wished next day I had n't 'fore 
The principal got through ; 

But that was 'way last May that I 
Committed of that crime — 

I don't play hookey now, no sir! 
Round 'bout Chris'mas time. 



49 




THE MAN THAT WAKES ME UP 




I tell you w'at, I love my Pa, 
I love him mos' as much as Ma ; 
He 's awful good to me, an' brings 
Me lots o' toys an* kites an' slings; 
An' t' other day, as sure as fate, 

He brought me home a tarrier pup — 
I love my Pa, but oh, I hate 

The man that mornin's wakes me up! 

My Pa he takes me fishin', too. 
When he 's got nothin' else to do ; 
I ketched a catfish, too, one day. 
Though half-way out he got away ; 
But Pa said I might count him, though, 

An' somethin' 'bout the " lip an' cup " — 
I dearly love my Pa, but oh, 

I hate the man that wakes me up ! 
50 



The Man That Wakes Me Up 51 

I 'm always hearin' 'bout the ant 
Wat gets up early, but I can't 
See w'at that 's got to do with me — 
I ain't no ant, as I can see ; 
I 'm just a boy w'at likes to He 

Abed until it 's time to sup — 
Of course I love my Pa, but I 

Don't love that man that wakes me up. 




THE TITTYPOOS 

Deep, deep in the heart of the ancient wood 

Is the home of the Tittypoo folk, 
And there in the midst of the forest dim 

They labor and laugh and joke ; 
They rise with the sun, and they go to bed 

When the sun has sunk from sight. 
But the rest of the time they work and work, 

And they sleep like a top all night. 



Now, the Tittypoo tribe is a bow-legged tribe. 
And they 're all of the very same size, 

A foot and a half is the height of each, 
And they all have identical eyes ; 

So a Tittypoo can't tell himself apart. 
And a name is an unknown thing, 
52 



The Tittypoos 53 

Save Tittypoo-La, who 's the queen of the tribe. 
And Tittypoo-Loo, the king. 

The main occupation of Tittypoo land 

Is working for Santa Claus, 
Who gives out his contracts on New Year's day, 

In worsted all worked on gauze ; 
" Ten million of kites, and a billion of sleds. 

And a trillion or so of drums," 
Is the way that he orders his goods, you know, 

To be ready when Christmas comes. 

So the Tittypoos get out their hammers and saws, 

And they hammer and saw away, 
In a deathly fear they may be too late 

For the coming of Christmas day ; 
And they work so fast with their hammers and saws 

That they always are thro' by June, 
And they cry, " Oh, why did we hurry so, 

For now we are done too soon ! " 

In a desperate state they bustle around 

To find some work to do. 
And they clean up the forest for miles and miles 

And weep when they are through ; 
And they say, " What a pity some boys are bad. 

For were they all good as pie, 



54 The Tittypoos 

Our contracts with Santa Claus then would call 
For a very much larger supply." 

Now, a Tittypoo's heart it is tender and kind, 

And there 's nothing he hates except 
The greedy band of the Lodtops, and 

In catching them he 's adept ; 
For when he espies a Lodtop he 

Esteems it a regular treat, 
And carefully crawls to a point where he 

Can tickle the Lodtop's feet. 




Now, the Lodtop's feet are so ticklish that 
When they 're tickled he catches his breath, 



The Tittypoos 55 

And he laughs and he laughs and he laughs so long 

That he laughs himself to death ; 
Then the Tittypoo dances around his foe, 

And he cries, " I have killed him dead ! 
He has eaten his last little girl or boy ! " 

Then he cuts off the Lodtop's head. 

So hurrah for the Tittypoo folk ! I say. 

Who live in the forest dim ; 
May each of the Tittypoos 'spy to-day 

A Lodtop and tickle him ; 
And I only wish that the Whoos had feet. 

For the Tittypoos, then, — who knows? — 
Might tickle the feet of the Whoos, as now 

They tickle the Lodtops' toes. 



TWO WISHES 

" / Wish I Was a Man ! " 

So, thou wouldst be a man, my boy, 

Wouldst change thy happy lot 
For one that is so full of care 

Of which thou knowest not ? 

Thou 'dst have thy merry, merry heart 

Forget the song it sings, 
And lose the laughter from thy soul 

That bears it up on wings? 

Thou 'dst leave the springtime heights of play. 

And seek the barren plain 
Where burdened folk, with weary feet. 

Pass on the road of pain ? 

Thou 'dst give thy castles in the air 

For some poor hut on earth, 
And learn, reality and dreams 

Have not an equal worth ? 

56 



Two Wishes 

Thou 'dst be a man, a mighty man ? 

And I would be a boy — 
I 'd give thee all my strength, if thou 

Couldst give me half thy joy. 



57 





JOHNNY'S LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS 

Dear Santa Claus : — I wish you 'd bring, 
To fill my stocking, Christmas night, 

A bike, a sled, some books, a swing, 
A phonograoh and six-foot kite. 



58 



THE SONG HE SHOULD HAVE SUNG 



" I would I were a careless child ! " 

Sang Byron many years ago, 
Forgetful of the punishments 

That careless children undergo : 
A brand-new hat without a brim, 

A party suit all torn and ripped, 
A hoop on which dear Father 
steps — 

And lo, a careless child is 
whipped ! 
Those Monday lessons still unlearned, 

A pressing errand quite forgot, 
A trembling home-returning — these 

Make sad the envied careless lot. 
Indeed, the poet quite forsakes 

The narrow path of painful truth, 
And fails to point the moral for 

The erring steps of careless youth ; 
Had he but grasped his mission high, 

As guide to those by sin beguiled. 

He would have sung the nobler song 

" I would I were a careful child." 




59 



THE MAN WHO LOVED THE CHILDREN 

He was just a good-for-nothing, 

An encumbrance to the earth, 
And there seemed no shghtest semblance 

Of a reason for his birth ; 
He was lazy, old, and shabby, 

And the work that he had done 
In his life you might have crowded 

In the time from sun to sun. 

He would sit around and idle 

When he knew at home the larder 
Was empty — 't was the period 

When he seemed to loaf the harder; 
So his angry wife had left him. 

Many years before my song. 
And the neighbors said they wondered 

She had stuck it out so long. 

He was lazy, old, and shabby, 
And his friends were very few, 
60 




AND THE SAILING-BOATS HE FASHIONED 
WERE A WONDER AND DELIGHT 



The Man Who Loved the Children 6i 

But he loved the children deady, 

And the children loved him, too; 
And although he would n't labor 

In the ordinary way, 
For a little man or woman 

He would work the livelong day. 

He could make a bow and arrow 

That would shoot 'most out of sight, 
And the sailing-boats he fashioned 

Were a wonder and delight ; 
And he told the finest stories, 

While he whittled at his work, 
Of gorillas, wolves, and grizzlies, 

And the wars against the Turk. 

So when he died the children 

Wept as though their hearts would break, 
And I 'm sure he 's gone to heaven, 

If it 's only for their sake. 
He was lazy, old, and shabby, 

And a ne'er-do-well, I know, 
But the Judge above is lenient — 

And he loved the children so. 



WHEN THE NOSE IS COLD 

When I wake up at night to find 

My nose has got a chill, 
With all the symptoms well defined, 

And growing colder still, 
I do not leave my nice warm bed, 

To light the fire and freeze my toes — 
I simply cover up my head, 

Thus covering up my nose. 

Oh, it is sad to think of all 

The noses that are cold 
Throughout the land, both large and small, 

Of every shape and mould ; 
I pity all, for 't is a sin, 

But most I pity those 
Who have no covers warm wherein 

To thaw a freezing nose. 



62 



THE HUNT FOR THE DRAGON 

The other day when Cousin Joe 

An' me an' Sister Nell 
Was playin' Injuns on the lawn, 

Along comes Tommy Bell ; 
His eyes was poppin' out his head, 

An' when he tried to speak • 
He could n't say a word at all, 

But only give a squeak. 

We thought he 'd seen a spook, for sure, 

Or run across a Whoo, 
Or met a Lodtop in the woods, 

Or heard the big Garoo ; 
But 't was n't that, for when he 'd found 

His tongue again, he sez : 
'* Our hired man has told me where 

A really dragon ez ! " 

Now, Cousin Joe he gave a whoop. 
An' Sister Nell says, " Oh ! " 
63 



64 The Hunt for the Dragon 

An' I jus' felt my heart go thump , 
An' then stand still, you know ; 

For hired men they is the ones 
That knows about such things 

As spooks an' Lodtops, gnomes an' Whoos, 
An' dragons w'at has wings. 

" Where is he ? quick ! " cried Cousin Joe ; 

" We '11 go an' kill him dead, 
An' then we '11 be Saint Georges, too, 

When we 've cut off his head ! " 
" Hooray ! " I cried, an' waved my cap, 

" I '11 go an' dig his grave ! " 
But Cousin Joe he said, " Oh no. 

That ain't a-bein' brave." 

An' so I had to get a stick. 

An' Sister got a hoe, 
An' Tommy Bell he fetched a rake 

An' give to Cousin Joe ; 
An' for himself he had a sling — 

A awful big one, my ! — 
An' said he 'd shoot the dragon, when 

We 'd found him, in the eye. 

" I '11 lead," says Tommy Bell, " an' you 
Can follow close behind ; " 



The Hunt for the Dragon 65 

An' Cousin Joe he let him, too, 

Because 't was Tommy 's find ; 
An' Sister Nell she followed next, 

An' I brought up the rear — 
I was n't frightened, but somehow 

My legs felt awful queer. 

"All ready, march! " cried Tommy Bell, 

An' started double-quick 
Toward the Jones's woods, an' I 

Made ready with my stick 
To poke it down the dragon's throat, 

Or hit him on the head — 
We had n't found him yet, but he 

Was just as good as dead. 

*' No noise now," says Tommy Bell, 

When we had reached the edge 
Of Jones's woods ; " perhaps he is 

Right there behind that hedge ! " 
An' so we crep' along real quiet 

Until we 'd passed the spot. 
When Tommy threw a stone to see 

Ef he was there or not. 

But nothin' moved, an' on we went 
Along on toward the brook, 



66 The Hunt for the Dragon 

A-throwin' stones ahead of us 

At ev'ry shady nook ; 
But suddintly, why, Cousin Joe 

He cried out, " What is that ?" 
An' so 's to listen better I 

Jus' laid myself down flat. 

An' like the Injuns when they puts 

Their ears close to the ground, 
I heard a distant sorter throb, 

A spooky kind o' sound ; 
But after 'bout a minute when 

I kep' quiet as a lamb, 
" Oh pshaw," cried Cousin Joe, " I guess 

That 's Jones's water-ram ! " 

An' sure enough it was, so we 

Took up the march again, 
An' went on deeper in the woods, 

Like brave King Arthur's men ; 
But say ! 't was awful scary, though, 

Jus' like a nightmare-dream, 
You could n't hear a sound excep' 

The tinklin' of the stream. 

" Our hired man he said we 'd find 
The dragon over there, 



The Hunt for the Dragon 67 

Beyond the pond," says Tommy Bell, 
" Where Bennets found their mare 

A-flounderin' in the bog — so ef 
He has n't taken flight. 

He mus' be there this moment, an' 
He '11 have to stand an' fight." 

Now, huntin' dragons when you 're still 

A-playin' round the yard 
Is 'bout as hard as kissin' games, — 

An' they ain't very hard ; 
But when the dragon 's run to earth. 

An' you or he must die. 
Why, that 's the time you wish you 'd learned 

In early youth to fly. 

So when we heard from Tommy Bell 

That we had reached his den, 
I sorter wished we 'd brought along 

Our two big hired men ; 
But wishin' did n't help, so on 

We went, like we had done. 
An' I caught Sister's dress to help 

Her ef we had to run. 

Without a word we crep' along 
To where the bog begins, 



68 The Hunt for the Dragon 

An' there was brambles all around 
To scratch you on the shins ; 

An' everywhere the bushes grew 
So thick you could n't see 

The dragon's hidin'-place at all, 
Like darkest Afriky. 

" Now steady, men," says Cousin Joe ; 

" I 'm goin' to throw a stone 
To make him leave the bog an' come 

Out here to fight alone." 
With that he threw a great big rock, 

An' splash we heard it fall, 
An' then for 'bout a second we 

Heard nothin' much at all. 

An' then, oh my ! the bushes' tops 

Began to wave around. 
An' from the dragon's den there come 

A squidgy-squdgy sound — 
" He 's comin' now ! " cried Cousin Joe 

" Stand fast ! " cried Tommy Bell ; 
An' so 's to guard her better, I 

Got back of Sister Nell. 

About a minute passed, I guess, 
While we was standin' so, 



The Hunt for the Dragon 69 

A-listenin' to our hearts go thiunpy 

Jus' Hke a hammer's blow ; 
When such a awful howl there come 

From out the dragon's den 
I 'm certain that it would 'ave scared 

Our two big hired men. 

'T was loud an' long, an' sad an' slow, 

A curdlin' sorter sound. 
That made your knees go wobblin', like 

A earthquake shook the ground ; 
An' Sister Nell she give a howl, 

An' run with all her might. 
An', as r d come to guard her, I 

Kep' hold her dress right tight. 

We run an' run, till out of breath. 

We could n't run no more. 
An' then we walked until at last 

We reached our kitchen door, 
Where Cousin Joe an' Tommy Bell 

Was playin' " Nero's Crime," 
An' tryin' t' make believe as if 

They 'd been there all the time. 

But jus' then up a horseman come, 
An' asked our hired man 



70 The Hunt for the Dragon 

Ef he had seen a brindle cow, 
All sorter white an' tan ; 

Our hired man he scratched his head, 
An' cried, " By -^sop's frog, 

I heard a cow a while ago 
Across in Jones's bog!" 



MY LITTLE BOY 

Good folks, I 've lost my little 
boy, 
With locks of curling brown, 
And laughing eyes and dimpled 
cheeks, 
The sweetest boy in town ; 

He came and stayed a while with me 

Oh, days without alloy ! — 
Until he quite outgrew my care — 
I 've lost my little boy ! 





The boy I have is big and strong, 
And brave as brave can be, 

And I am sure that in his heart 

There still is room for me ; 
He 's good and kind, and sent, 
I know. 
To be my pride and joy ; 
But ah, my heart is often sad — 
He 's not my little boy ! 




PICKING ON KIDS 

I 've got no use for fellers w'at 

Go bullyin' little boys, 
A-settin' on their stummicks, an' 

A-smashin' of their toys ; 
I used to do it onct myself, 

When I was only six, 
But now I 'm big an' seven years 

I 've stopped those sort o' tricks. 

Besides, I saw a feller onct 

W'at caught a little chap, 
An' pulled his hair, an' pinched him, too, 

An' thought he had a snap ; 
But suddintly a great big boy 

He come up on a run, 
72 



Picking on Kids 73 

An' walloped him to beat the band, 
An' made him howl like fun. 

You see, you never know w'at boys 

Has got a brother, or 
A cousin stay in' over night 

You never seen before — 
An' so I think it 's mean to pick 

On kids w'at 's weak an' small. 
An' can't defend themselves like men. 

But just run home an' squall. 



A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 

Oh, Christmas days of long ago, 

Can you not give one day to me, 
One of your merry number back 

Just as it used to be ? 
'T is but a httle time to spare 

From all the many-houred past, 
That once was mine and now is yours, 

One day too sweet to last ! 
You would not miss it from your store. 

While I — ah, words are vain ! — 
And when the evening comes, you know, 

I *11 give it back again. 

I 've given you so much, oh Past ! 

My life, my love, and all beside, 
Yet when I ask this simple boon 

I find myself denied ; 
It would not rob a single heart 

To have mine happy too. 
To have the Christmas day come in 

Just as it used to do. 
74 



A Christmas Prayer 75 

Then why not grant my childish wish, 

Let me forget I 'm grown ! — 
Alas, the past comes back again 

In memory alone ! 




A KNOTTY QUESTION 

" Please, Papa," asked my little girl, 
" If we 've thermometers, 

How does it come about that there 
Are no therpopeters? " 



76 



AN EARLY BLOSSOM 

Oh, she came one day in winter, 

When the flowers were asleep. 
Like an eager httle blossom 

That has come to take a peep, 
And to see, before her sisters. 

Whether Spring is at the door, 
And to be the first to welcome 

Robin Redbreast back once more. 

So we called her little Daisy, 

And we thanked dear God above 
He had sent to cheer ourjvinter 

Such a dainty flower to love ; 
And we watched her grow and blossom 

As the spring-tide passed away 
From the land — but in our dwelling 

It remained forever May. 

But, alas, the May has left us, 
And 't is always winter now ; 

77 

LofC. 



78 An Early Blossom 

There are other flowers in plenty, 
There are blossoms on the bough, 

But the flower we loved and cherished 
Is beyond our hopes and fears, 

And we cannot see the others 
For the blinding of our tears. 




THE HURDY-GURDY 

•• Do You Love Me, Molly Darling ? " — 

To the time of " Get Your Gun " — 
There is not an instant's pausing 

When the tune has once begun ; 
" Sweet Marie " and " Annie Laurie " 

Hasten wildly to get through, 
To escape the frantic wooing 

Of the dashing " Boys in Blue " ; 
But the boys must all surrender 

To the lone " High-School Cadet," 
Whose career in turn is ended 

By " A Foolish, Fond Regret," 
While the sweet " Blue Bells of Scotland " 

Ring out " Daisy Bell's " bike marriage, 
79 



8o The Hiirdy-Gurdy 

And Mascagni's " Intermezzo " 

Ushers in " Our Baby-Carriage " — 
Madly reels the brain, and reason 

Totters on her narrow throne ; 
Rushing madly to the window, 

" Go ! " you murmur with a groan ; 
Then you halt, " The Suwanee River 

Rises upward to your ear, 
Or some other simple ditty 

That in childhood's days was dear ; 
And you close your eyes to listen, 

While the music floods your soul, 
And the clouds of sad experience 

Backward from the vision roll ; 
All forgot the dreary present. 

All forgot its griefs and fears, 
For the hurdy-gurdy's music 

Has wiped out a score of years. 




THE DEAREST ONE 



I love the ways of sunny France, 
The tender song, the joyous dance, 
The vine-clad hills 'mid verdant leas, 
Through which the rivers seek the seas ; 
The rippling laugh, the roguish glance — 
Ah yes, I love thee, merry France. 

And Germany, where music sprang 
Anew to life, where poets sang, 
And Romance quivered into birth, 
I love thee, too, I know thy worth ; 
Here drinks the soul at learning's spring 
While wandering students gaily sing. 

And Italy, the home of art. 

And Spain, proud Spain, with broken heart 



82 The Dearest One 

And England, too, where freedom grew 
I love them all, the brave, the true, 
For happy hours beneath their skies, 
For memories of smiles and sighs, 
For songs of love since love began — 
But ah, my heart 's American ! 



For permission to republish certain poems in this volume thanks 
are due to The Churclwian, The Munsey, and the New York Herald. 



83 



tcopvnn TO CAT P(v. 

JUL. 9 190? 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

iiiaiiiiiH . 

018 477 508 6 



